Swans
by Anniely
Summary: Every time we see evil, something good dies in us and sometimes we die with it - Hotch knew that was true and yet the end never justifies the means. Emily and Hotch find themselves in a situation where the choices aren't always their's to make. EmilyHotch
1. A light and a dark side

_A/N: I have no idea where this came from. But it felt worth writing. Not betaed. Criticism and/or praise is very much appreciated.  
__And disclaimer: I own none of this; only the idea and the words are mine (If I did own it, Hotch would be a lot happier.)._

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**Swans**

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Chapter One: A light and a dark side

_The difference between a good man and a bad man is the choice of the cause.  
__(William James)_

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The only light in the damp room came from a single, naked light bulb, hanging from the low concrete ceiling. It smelled moldy down in the basement room; the walls were covered in dirt and splashes of some dark, dried liquid. There were no windows and no way out, except for a white metal door.  
For once there was no music coming from behind that door.

Two chairs were positioned in the middle of the chamber-like room, screwed to the floor.

The two people sitting on them - a woman and a man - had definitely seen happier days. Their clothes were dirty and torn and had more than a few drops of blood on them. If it was all theirs, was hard to tell, considering what equipment there was in the corner farthest away from the door.  
A wooden working table, battered and darkened by age and excessive use, was covered by all kinds of tools. Pincers, a hammer, screwdrivers, a saw, a few knifes, scissors and forks, but also a dog collar, a whip, candles and matches.

If it weren't for the pair on the chairs, one wouldn't think much of it.

The man stirred, lifting his head up an inch. His eyelids fluttered open lazily and he hazily looked around; as far as his aching neck would allow. He took in the tools and the windowless walls, but couldn't get himself to feel fear or awe anymore. After finishing his brief inspection of his by now far too familiar surroundings, he tucked at the bonds binding his hands; his feet were also bound. Resignedly he had to concede that they were still firmly in place.

'Prentiss,' Aaron Hotchner whispered, the lack of music from the next room forcing him to keep his voice as low as possible.

The dark haired woman next to him didn't move.

Emily Prentiss' chin lay on her chest. She almost fell off the chair and only her tied hands kept her from actually doing so.

'Prentiss,' Hotch tried again. A little louder, a little more forceful this time.

The raven-haired woman groaned and Hotch saw her scrunch up her face. Then her eyelids slowly opened. Just like Hotch before Emily checked her surroundings and ties first, before lifting her head to meet Hotch's eyes. She bit back a pained moan as the sore muscles in her neck screamed at her to stop moving.

'The music is turned off,' Emily whispered. 'He been back yet?'

'I don't think he has been here since the last time,' Hotch murmured back. He tried to get himself into a more comfortable position on the hard chair, but that task proved to be impossible. Finally he gave up and slumped back against the wood again.

'I don't know if that is a good thing or a bad,' Emily chipped in, while trying to rid her hands from the rope. Her wrists and her fingers were scratched and grazed and she had ripped off three fingernails.

'Prentiss, stop that,' Hotch finally ordered, as he saw the almost dried wounds on her hands start to bleed anew.

'No, Hotch! We've been in here for what feels like three weeks and I can't stand another -'

'It's been three days,' Hotch interjected. His eyes searched for hers and when the two pairs of dark eyes met, both immediately felt somewhat calmer.

Emily hung her head.

'I hate feeling like a puppet on strings; you never know when your strings will be cut.'

'I hate that, too,' Hotch admitted; he sounded very tired.

Silence elapsed between them, as they both sunk into their own, dark thoughts and visions.

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Suddenly blaring music sounded from the adjacent room and made both agents jump. Their tormentor was back and he announced his presence with blaring Death Metal sounds. Yesterday it had been Rap and the day before that, their first day here in that wet cellar room, he had actually played Pachelbel's canon in D-major. Emily had recognized the melody immediately. It was one she had heard on many concerts that she had had to attend with her parents when she was younger and it had made her feel sick to hear such a beautiful piece in a place like this.

'Hotch,' Emily whispered almost pleadingly.

Hotch had never before heard her sound this frightened. But he knew where her fear came from. It came from the same place his own stemmed from. Because Hotch, too, was scared of the moment the door would open and the man would step through. A knowing grin would be plastered to his face, though his eyes would be as emotionless as they always were.

Every time we see evil, something good dies in us. That's what he had said at the end of the first day, just before he had closed the white door behind him and left two tattered and bruised agents behind. Hotch had to admit that he believed that, too - to a certain degree. He knew that every time he saw evil happening right in front of his eyes, holding on to the little good in this life became decidedly harder. But Jack still showed him how beautiful life could be and evenings with the team after a hard case, when they could laugh without having to worry, left him feeling much lighter inside. If you keep fighting everything bad that was out there, Hotch knew, then the good would prevail. Not always and not forever, but in small dimensions. And those mattered and always would.

'It's gonna be alright,' Hotch said. But he knew that his words probably sounded unconvincing, given that they were the same they both had been telling each other the past seventy-two hours.

'The team will find us, Emily.'

Even to Hotch it seemed ironic that he hadn't called her Emily until there was the possibility that they would both die.

'I really hope you're right,' she gave back quietly.

Then they heard a key being inserted and the white door behind them opened with a low squeak.

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A tall man entered. With his short blond hair and blue eyes he could be described as good-looking, but his face was too sharp, his skin too pale and his eyes dead. The sleeves of his simple, light blue shirt were pushed up to his elbows, revealing pale muscles. He shut the door behind him, but stayed behind the two agents on the chairs. From his belt he took a shiny golden badge and a standard issued Glock. With an almost loving smile on his thin lips, the man placed his credentials and gun in front of the white door. Then he slowly walked to the table in the far corner, passing between the two agents. He touched a few of the things on the table - a hammer, some duct tape and a stapler.

Two pairs of hard and unflinching eyes met his stare as he spun around to face Emily and Hotch.

'Hello, agents,' he said solemnly and leaned against the edge of the table casually.

Neither one of the tied-up answered him.

'Well, that's very rude,' he stated and stepped closer to Emily. It took Emily a lot of self-control not to flinch as he lightly traced her jaw line. Hotch tensed visibly on his chair, but the man's attention was on the woman in front him.

'I thought you had manners, Agent Prentiss. You used to greet me every time we crossed paths at the BAU.'

He took his hand back, but didn't give Emily some space to breath.

'When I met you at the BAU I didn't know that you were a sick, sadistic, murdering son of a bitch,' Emily spat. Her voice was even; her hands, however, were shaking behind her back.

'That is in the eye of the beholder,' he retorted calmly. 'I still see myself as an FBI agent who is trying to find new ways of solving crimes. And I am willing to go to great lengths to do that. By doing what the UnSubs do, by experiencing what they experience, by feeling what they feel I get into their heads. And once I did that I will change the BAU in a way that no one ever has. Not Jason Gideon, not David Rossi and not you, Agent Hotchner,' the man finished and turned to look at Hotch with cold eyes.

'No one cares what you see yourself as, Fuller,' Hotch replied. He kept his voice emotionless, almost indifferent. 'When they get you, you will go to jail for the rest of your life. And everything you think you achieved will disappear with you. Not one will remember your name.'

'We will see about that, Agent Hotchner. We will see about that.'

Never before had a stapler seemed more frightening to Emily or Hotch. Strange what circumstances could change.

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	2. When there is no hope, hope

_Disclaimer see Chapter One._

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Chapter Two: When there is no hope, hope

_I can't believe it.  
__- That is why you fail.  
__(Star Wars)_

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After what seemed like an eternity, Fuller finally stopped. He put everything back onto the table and wiped his hands clean on a towel. As he walked over to where his badge and gun lay on the concrete floor, he actually started whistling. Neither of the two tied-up agents moved. Finally the self-proclaimed do-gooder closed the door behind himself and left nothing but quietness behind him.

Hotch waited a few minutes - until he could here the music blaring down from upstairs - before he finally tried to lift up his head. Every part of his body hurt and new blood stains had joined the dried ones. But it had been less hard to endure than yesterday. At least that was what Hotch told himself. It cost him a lot of concentration to finally get his head up. His eyelids felt heavy as lead, but Hotch knew he couldn't sleep, not yet.

'Emily?' he asked and turned his head right as far as possible.

The female agent's chin was on her chest again. She wasn't moving.

'Prentiss?' Hotch tried not to feel alarmed, as Emily still didn't stir.

'Emily!' Hotch called as quietly as one could call.

Finally the woman let out a pained groan.

'Would you mind to stop shouting?' Emily asked, sounding exasperated. Then she raised her head and stretched her neck to the left and the right side.

'Ouch.'

That almost made Hotch smile.

'You really have a way of hitting the nail on the head,' Hotch said. Then he grew serious. 'Are you alright?'

'Yeah, I guess so. Wasn't as bad as yesterday.'

'Yes, I thought so, too. Do you think he is growing tired of the torture?' Hotch asked. He knew what that could mean. If Fuller really was done with torturing them, then he would kill them, just like he had the others.

'I don't think so,' Emily gave back and straightened up as much as possible. She turned to face Hotch. Her brows were furrowed and she looked at him with that look that she had in her eyes when she was concentrating really hard. It's what they both had learned within the first minutes down here. Thinking made the pain disappear for a few short, precious moments.

'We know that he kept the others alive six to seven days. I think he's … thinking of better ways to get into the minds of the UnSubs.'

'They'll find us.' Those were hollow words, he knew, but he needed to hear them. He needed to remind himself that it wasn't over until it was over.

'Do you really believe that, Hotch?' Emily quietly wanted to know. Her eyes were full of doubt.

'I believe in the team's abilities.'

The agents fell silent once more. But this time the quietness stood between them like a wall. It separated them from each other and intensified their worries. For a long time the only sound was the Rock'n'Roll music floating down the stairs. The same song was playing in an infinite loop, just like their thoughts that were going around in circles.

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'I'm sorry, Hotch,' Emily eventually spoke up. The silence was pressing down on her from all sides, like water. 'I didn't mean to sound like I did. I do believe in them, too. This is just so- '

'Yes. I know.' Hotch nodded.

Emily's nose started to tickle. 'You don't happen to have a free hand to scratch my nose, do you?'

Her dry humor actually earned her a low chuckle.

'I'm afraid I'm rather engaged here,' Hotch deadpanned and made a show of trying to get his hands free. His smile grew a little broader, as he heard Emily laugh.

'Damn,' she suddenly cursed, 'Even laughing hurts. Son of a bitch.'

'You know,' Emily added, before an uncomfortable silence could fall between them, 'Now that we have so much time on our tied hands, I can ask you questions and you have nowhere to run to.'

Hotch lifted an eyebrow inquiringly. 'What kind of questions?'

It was common knowledge that Hotch was very careful when it came to personal information. He only ever revealed so much as was necessary.

'Why, for example, have I never seen you wear anything but a shirt, jacket and tie. Even when we're all going out for dinner, you're still wearing the tie. And that case when you wore a thick sweater because it was freezing cold doesn't count.'

The look Emily gave Hotch was curious like a child's. Oddly enough she reminded him of Jack, whenever he saw something he didn't yet understand.

_Daddy, why does Miss Jodie call me Jack and not Mr. Hotchner? She calls you Mr. Hotchner. And mom told me that my name was Hotchner, too._

'Hotch?' Emily asked, uncertainty evident in her face. 'You don't have to answer, you know. I was just fooling around.'

Her sudden shyness surprised him.

'No. I was just thinking,' Hotch said. 'I guess I don't really have an answer to that.' He carefully considered his next words. 'When Hailey and I were still married, I would throw my working clothes off the minute I got home. Hailey laughed at me for a few weeks. She said I made it look like I didn't like my job. But it was the opposite. I actually like my job, but I saw so much hatred and pain … I was trying to not bring these things home with me. But now that doesn't really matter anymore.'

'I'm sorry,' he added, not wanting to make the woman feel bad. 'I didn't mean to- '

'Please,' Emily interrupted him, 'You don't need to apologize. I asked. But I am grateful for your trust.'

'Always, Emily. But now I do get to ask a question, don't I?' As Emily nodded, he went on, 'Tell me, what is exactly is a Sin and Win Weekend in Atlantic City?'

'Hotch, I never thought- '

But yet again, how it always seemed to be the case where the two agents were now, heavy footsteps on the staircase put an abrupt end to their conversation. Neither of the two had realized that the music had stopped. As the door swung open, Emily almost complained about not having five minutes to her own. But then Fuller's presence filled the room and the panic came back with the force of a tornado, bringing with it beating hearts and shaking hands. The knowledge of the pain to come was crueler than the pain itself.

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'I've been thinking,' Fuller announced and stalked back and forth in front of the two other agents as if they were students attending a lecture. 'Everyday people make up new ways of torturing others. They invent tools to inflict maximum pain, they study more eagerly than we do. But over the years and countless hours spent in the interrogation room I have learned one thing.' He made a dramatic wait.

'The greatest of pains can never be inflicted on the body, but the soul of a human being.'

He let his word hang in the air and looked from Hotch to Emily and back. Neither agent knew where this was going, but they knew they wouldn't like it. Whatever it would be. Fuller, however, already immensely enjoyed the insecurity and the trace of fear in the eyes of his fellow profilers. They were both trying to control their feelings, of course, but Fuller had a way of reading people. His skills might not be as sophisticated as Rossi's, but they served his purpose well. He counted to fifteen in his head.

'Now you two have a choice to make,' Fuller announced, after reaching fifteen. 'I will let one of you go.'

He spread his arms like a priest. 'He or she will be set free. Not in the nearest vicinity, of course, I don't want to make this too easy, but no harm shall be done to him or her. But be aware,' he said, holding up a warning finger, 'Whoever stays behind, only has thirteen more hours to live.'

You could have heard a needle falling down in the sudden silence.

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	3. Somewhere a clock is ticking

_Disclaimer see Chapter One._

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Chapter Three: Somewhere a clock is ticking

_Promise me you'll survive. That you won't give up, no matter what happens, no matter how hopeless.  
__(Titanic)_

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'It will be me.' Emily's voice broke through the temporary silence like thunder.

'No, Fuller! I will do it. Emily, I will- '

'No,' Emily interrupted Hotch calmly. Her hands had stopped shaking and her heart wasn't beating too fast anymore. She actually felt relaxed. Maybe because she finally knew where all this was leading. Her eyes were focused on Hotch and she met his pleading dark eyes with a gentle gaze.

'You, Hotch, will walk out of here. You will go home and tonight you will give Jack a hug and tell him that you love him.'

'No. No, Emily!' Hotch tried again, angrily pulling at the rope around his wrists.

'Let him go, Fuller,' Emily said, ignoring Hotch. She let her eyes move to Fuller, who was looking at both of them intently, as if he was watching a very interesting political debate; he was toying with a hunting knife.

'I will stay.'

A cold, yet malicious smile crept over the FBI agent's face as he nodded.

'Yes,' he said and stepped towards Hotch, the knife in hand. But he was still looking at Emily. 'That you will.'

Fuller stood in front of Hotch, who was looking at him with disgust clearly written all over his face.

'Emily- ' Hotch started, but suddenly Fuller hit him square in the face. Hotch let out a groan and fell to the side. The bonds barely kept him upright. A trail of blood made it's way down the right side of Hotch's face where the knife's pommel had hit his temple.

'No!' Emily screamed. 'You bastard! You said you wouldn't hurt him! You said you would let him go.'

'Shut up, Emily. I will let him go,' Fuller gave back; this was getting better and better. He cut Hotch's bonds and as the body of the unconscious agent fell forward, he caught him. 'But, Emily, do you really think I am stupid enough to just cut him loose and risk him going at me? By now you should now better.'

With these words Fuller carelessly dropped the knife to the floor and dragged Hotch out of the room, leaving behind a shaking Emily. Only slowly she managed to get her breathing under control.

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Waiting and not knowing how Hotch was, was indeed another form of torture. Fuller had been right. As the minutes stretched out to feel like days, Emily found herself wishing for the defecting FBI agent to step through the door and continue the torture on her body, but stop that on her soul. Her thoughts were centering around Hotch. She knew there was no way she could doubtlessly find out whether or not he was indeed fine, even if Fuller was to step through the white door right now. All she could do was trust on Fuller's sadistic side and hope that it would bring him some kind of sick satisfaction to keep Hotch alive and to feed off both their worries and fear. But the profiler in her knew that by actually keeping Hotch alive, Fuller was giving up his cover and was running the risk of getting caught. And that meant that either he was too cocky for his own good, or he had a water-tight back-up plan.

As Emily's thoughts started repeating themselves, she focused on something else. First on her breathing and then she started counting the seconds.

… _14, 15, 16 …_

… _55 …_

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For the first time in almost four days, Hotch felt comfortable. He was lying on something soft. His hands were free and spread out left and right of him. He reveled in the feeling of the softness of whatever his cheek lay on. He fisted his hand into the material. His knuckles ached as his fingers dug into the clammy forest soil. The pain triggered something and pictures started to flash in Hotch's mind. But they were too fast and he couldn't hold on to a single one.

Around him he could hear birds sing and the wind whistling through leaves. He hadn't felt this free and save since he had bought Prentiss the coffee, just before Fuller had taken them. Hotch thought about opening his eyes for a moment, when the pictures started popping up again. One came up more often than the others. It was Prentiss smiling at him, as she took a paper cup filled with steaming coffee from him.

Strangely the next picture also showed Prentiss, but this time she wasn't smiling. There were cuts and bruises on her face and her eyes were strangely empty.

Hotch opened his eyes abruptly.

He was lying on brown forest soil. The cold was already creeping up through his ragged clothes and the front of his shirt was wet and dirty. Slowly he pushed himself up. First on all fours, then on his knees. He had to take a few deep breaths, as a stabbing pain hit his temple. Hotch reached up and felt dried blood covering the right side of his face. His vision was still slightly blurred at the edges, but he willed his legs to carry him nevertheless. For a few seconds he felt like he had a real bad hangover.

He looked around. There were trees, only trees, as far as he could see. Mostly oaks and a few beaches surrounded him. And Hotch didn't know where he was. He closed his eyes and pressed a hand to his forehead, as he tried to piece together the last few hours.

Fuller had stood in front of him, with a knife in his hand and he had hit him. Hotch touched the caked blood again. That was where the head wound was from. The next thing he remembered was darkness, pitch-black darkness and a bumpy ride. He hadn't had much space or air and he had faded in an out of consciousness. As hard as he tried to remember, he didn't know how long the ride had been.

Exasperated Hotch started to walk straight ahead. Out of that direction the most light seemed to be coming. And light hopefully meant a street and people.

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Emily was nearing sixty seconds again for the umpteenth time, when the door behind her opened. Instantaneously the agent felt exactly like she had felt on her graduation. All squirrelly.

'Emily,' Fuller said as soon as he was in the room. He walked over to the table and put something on it. His body hid whatever it was from Emily.

Then he turned around, a boyish glee in his eyes. 'I have things to do, lots of things to do. My studies were very successful. So I'm afraid I don't have much time to talk. But you don't have much time left, either. See!'

A clock was revealed, as Fuller stepped aside. It showed _11:53:22_. The seconds were counting down.

'I allowed myself to deduct the time it took me to get Agent Hotchner out of here. Which means now you have eleven hours and fifty-three precious minutes left. Oh, make that fifty-two. Time flies.'

He patted the clock fondly. 'Anything you want to say?'

His performance would have been comical, had Emily been watching it on a stage or a TV screen. But now she only hoped that he would give her the remaining eleven and something hours.

'Is Hotch alright?' she asked and looked at Fuller with fearless eyes. Now that her time was literally running down in front of her, Emily felt calmer than she had since the first minute Fuller had tied her to the chair. It would end soon; one way or another.

'He will be, if he ever finds his way out of the forest,' Fuller replied and walked towards the door. He stood behind Emily, the door already open.

'I guess it makes you feel all warm and fuzzy, dying for someone you care about, someone you love, even.' Fuller laughed and the door shut with a thud.

Emily shuddered.

Eleven hours and fifty minutes. How fast two minutes could pass.

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Hotch was stumbling and tripping. He had fallen twice already, but he kept on going. Somewhere along the way all the pain had vanished. Hotch was walking on autopilot. The only thing he was thinking about was one foot in front of the other, just one more step. Because he needed to help Emily.

Suddenly the ground became steep. The soil under his feet afforded no hold and Hotch felt himself sliding away. He all but crawled up the last few meters. The first thing he saw was asphalt, forming a straight, gray street. Never before had something so trivial seemed more beautiful to Hotch. He heaved himself onto his feet and started walking again. There would be a car somewhere; there had to be.

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	4. It's how well we hide the pain

_Disclaimer see Chapter One._

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Chapter Four: It's how well we hide the pain

_Courage is resistance of fear; mastery of fear - not absence of fear.  
__(Mark Twain)_

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The area was completely foreign to Hotch. He didn't recognize anything, as he dragged himself along the seemingly unending asphalt way. The trees blurred into one another. Maybe he was going in circles; or maybe he had never actually gotten away and was just dreaming. Never before had Hotch been any closer to giving up. When Foyet had had Hailey, Hotch had been holding on to his sanity for Jack. But this time he didn't have a car, he didn't have a weapon, he had no team to back him up and he had no strength left. He told himself over and over again that it would be just one more curve. But then there was another and another.

And suddenly Hotch found himself staring into the headlights of a car. The first thing that came to his mind, was that he hadn't even noticed that it had gotten darker. The car tires screeched, as the driver tried to bring the car to a stop. Hotch only stood there on the road, wondering what would happen if the car run him over. Would dying hurt? He had been hit, stabbed and shot, but had come out the other side alive.

Then the screaming of the car brakes drowned out every thought in his mind

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'Shut up,' Emily murmured. She was staring at the clock with a look somewhere between madness and fury in her eyes.

Fuller had programmed the clock to ring every thirty minutes. But not only once or twice, it rang a full minute. The beep was annoying the hell out of Emily. She was already willing time to pass slower, she didn't need a reminder of every passed half hour.

'Shut up,' she repeated, 'Shut up!'

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The young woman in the car was shaking and, if possible, looked even worse than Hotch. She was pale and her eyes were red-rimmed. It had taken Hotch too much valuable time to get her to calm down. She had been completely hysterical, holding on to his arm for dear life. The only thing she had repeated over and over again was 'I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!'.

'It's ok,' Hotch said and tried to pry her fingers from his aching forearm. He would have another bruise there in the morning. 'Please, I need you to listen to me.'

His words finally seemed to reach the young, brunette woman. She nodded frantically and crossed her arms in front of her. Hotch noted that her hands were still shaking. In her large, blue jumper and with her doe-like blue eyes she looked as if she wasn't yet allowed to drive a car.

'What's your name?' Hotch asked.

'Charlotte,' she answered tentatively.

'Ok, Charlotte. Do you have a cell phone?' Considering that nowadays some people even had two cells, Hotch was positive that Charlotte would have at least one.

The young woman nodded.

'Good. I need it to call my colleagues. A friend of mine is in trouble. Can I use your phone, please?'

Again the brunette nodded and started rummaging through a light blue purse on the passengers seat. Eventually she pulled out a pink, flip-top cell phone and handed it over to Hotch. The agent almost snatched it from her. Then he entered Dave's number. As it dialed, Hotch let out the air he hadn't realized he had been holding.

'Rossi?' The agent sounded stressed and annoyed. In the background Hotch could hear phones ringing and a lot of people talking.

'Dave,' Hotch said and breathed a sigh of relief.

'Hotch?' Rossi's voice changed from one second to the other. Gone were the stress. Instead he sounded very alert now. 'Are you alright? What- '

'Dave, I'm fine. I need you to listen to me,' Hotch rushed, 'Emily and I were taken by Fuller. Tobias Fuller. You know him. He is working for the BAU. He released me, but he still has Emily. If he follows through with his thread, he will kill her in a little over nine hours, I think. I'm- '

Hotch hurriedly turned to Charlotte. 'Where are we?'

'Um, just outside Monterey.'

'Virginia?'

'Yes,' Charlotte said and nodded insecurely.

'Dave,' Hotch said into the phone, 'I'm still in Virginia. Outside Monterey. Small town, I guess.'

Next to him Charlotte nodded once more.

'Where are you?'

'Where back at Quantico,' Rossi gave back. 'We figured we had a better position here, since we didn't even know from where exactly you had been taken.' Dave sounded apologetic.

'I need you to get back here. Meanwhile, have Garcia check if Fuller has a property somewhere around here. Maybe off the beaten track, but we were in a cellar, so I don't know for sure. Check his credit card statements. He might have been stupid enough to use it to buy something recently.'

'Sure. Can you get to the police station in the next bigger town?' Rossi asked and Hotch heard typing. 'The closest big city would be Harrisonburg.'

'Harrisonburg?'

'Yes.'

'Sir,' a small voice piped up next to Hotch and he looked down. For a moment he had almost forgotten about Charlotte. 'I was heading to Harrisonburg. I study there. At James Madison University.'

'I can get there, Dave. Just hurry,' Hotch almost pleaded, 'I don't know how much time Emily has left.

'We'll be there in two hours tops. Call me when you're there,' Rossi said. 'And Hotch? We'll find her.'

Two minutes later Hotch and Charlotte were in the car and on the road again. Charlotte had let Hotch behind the wheel, after briefly talking to Rossi to confirm that Hotch was indeed an FBI agent and not just a weirdo running through the woods.

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Rossi almost ran out of his office, Go-bag in hand.

'Hotch just called!' he said, as he walked down the stairs. He came to stand next to Emily's deserted desk. Immediately three heads shot up and JJ, Morgan and Reid looked up at him with big eyes.

'Grab your bags; where heading out. Morgan, call Garcia. Have her look for everything she can find on the BAU member Tobias Fuller. I'll explain everything later,' he added, as Morgan frowned.

JJ had already stood up and hurried to her office to get her own bag. Reid and Morgan grabbed the bags that readily sat next to their desks. The latter agent already held his phone to his ear.

'Garcia?' he said and walked over to the elevator. Rossi kept the doors from sliding shut. 'Yeah, Hotch just called. We're heading out.' He listened for a moment. 'No, I don't know anything yet. And yes, I'll call ya, but for now I need you to find out whatever you can about Tobias Fuller. He's working for the BAU. Yeah, I know that. Just do it, please, Baby girl.'

Just as Morgan closed his cell, JJ ran down the corridor towards them. She slipped in beside Reid and the metal doors closed.

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_A/N: I hope this is not too fast-paced, but there is something I wanted to focus on and that is why I want to get the story a little forward._


	5. On time's wings

_Disclaimer see Chapter One._

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Chapter Five: On time's wings

_The fundamental delusion of humanity is to suppose that I am here and you are out there.  
__(Robert M. Pirsig)_

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The drive to Harrisonburg was a quiet affair. The four agents in the car were on edge and even Reid didn't dare to speak. The tension was almost tangible. Rossi was in the driver's seat, his hands clenching the steering wheel so hard his knuckles stood out white against the tanned skin of his hands. Morgan was in the seat next to him. He had his mobile phone in his lap and every two seconds he flipped the top open to look at the screen in hope of some news. But so far Garcia hadn't called. JJ and Reid, both in the backseats, looked equally pale. Cases like these took their toll on everybody.

Reid looked at his watch again and quickly calculated how much longer it would take them to finally get to Harrisonburg. They had hit Route 81 about ten minutes ago which meant, considering Rossi's way of driving it wouldn't be that much longer. Even with the heavy truck traffic on the interstate.

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Usually Hotch didn't have a problem with waiting. Sometimes his job demanded laying low and waiting for the perfect opportunity, for the right moment. But sitting in hot police station, with Fuller's whole life spread out in front of him and no one to help him get through it, was starting to wear his patience thin.

After he had arrived at the police station with Charlotte, he had thanked the young woman. He would have given her something, some money, anything, to really show her how much her help meant, but the only things Hotch had, were his ruined clothes and shoes. Charlotte had only shaken her head, when he had said that he wanted to give her something.

'I almost ran you over; getting you here so you can save your friend is the least I can do.'

When she had closed the door of her car, she smiled at him. Then she had sped down the road and Hotch had went into the police station.

He had thought that it would take him a small eternity to explain who he was and what was going on, but obviously JJ had called ahead and a Detective was already waiting for him. Detective Winters had brought him some fresh clothes and after Hotch had changed, he had shown him to a small, but neat office.

'You can use my phone and computer,' he had said. His voice held a slight Irish accent. 'But I'm afraid I don't have any men available to help you, yet. There's been a fire and most of my men are there.'

'I understand,' Hotch had replied calmly, ever the diplomat. 'We might need help once my team gets here, though.'

'I'll see to it. Do you want me to send someone to have a look at that wound?' Winters had added and pointed to Hotch's blood-covered side of the head.

'No, thank you,' Hotch had declined. 'It's nothing to worry about. If you could just show me the where I can clean myself up.

'Bathroom's down the hallway, last door on the right.' And with that Winters had nodded and left the box-like room.

.

The first thing Hotch did, after getting his head to look less ghastly, was calling Garcia.

She answered after the second ring. 'Planet of Knowledge, here. Speak.' The voice of the technician came through the line and Hotch had never felt so relieved to hear her.

'Garcia, you -'

'Sir!' she interrupted him immediately, 'It is a pleasure to hear your voice again, sir. I -'

'Garcia, I don't have time. Emily is still missing.'

'Oh.' Hotch could almost see the happiness leave Garcia's face.

'But I need you to focus,' Hotch said. The sound of his own voice made him shiver. It was almost indifferent.

But maybe this was how it should be. This should be just another case. But Hotch knew that it couldn't be 'just another case', because it was about the team, it was about Emily and that made it personal.

'Yes, sir,' came the prompt reply, 'Of course, sir.'

'Good. Are you done with the background check on Fuller, yet?'

'Yes. If you're near a fax machine I can send everything to you.'

Hotch looked around the small room. 'There isn't one here. Just send it via email, I'll print it out.'

'Yes, sir.' There was frantic typing in the background.

'Anything on the search for property belonging to Fuller?' Hotch asked, while starting the web browser.

'No, I'm sorry, sir. He isn't registered as the owner of any property in Virginia, aside from the condo he owns in D.C, but I am checking if there is any family-owned property or if he inherited something lately.'

'Thank you, Garcia,' Hotch said. The old computer had finally loaded the homepage.

'Always, sir. Over and out.'

.

The five stages of grief were a theory that Emily had been confronted with many times. She had knocked on many doors to tell anxious parents that their son or daughter would never come home again. She had offered countless words of consolation and sympathy, but so far she had not made many own experiences with this kind of grief. When she had been fifteen, after the abortion, her life had been all about grief for a few month. But she had been young and it is easy to forget things like grief when you grow older.

Now, however, Emily didn't know how much older she would get in her life. The clock read _8:05:34_. In the worst-case scenario that meant she had only a little over eight hours left to live. And she didn't know if there even was a best-case scenario.

The clock mercilessly counted down the time. Emily felt her hands itching to tear it to pieces. About an hour ago, she had run out of things to think about and so she had started to analyze her own behavior and thoughts. Right now she was still trying to apply the five stages of grief to herself.

The first one, denial, she had skipped. How could she deny something that would be inevitable? With the second one Emily wasn't sure. Anger was something she had definitely felt. But not at the situation itself, rather at _herself_. Now that she came to think of it, there were so many things that she would have wanted to do, so many things to try. Emily pushed these thoughts away. She had lived her life the way she had wanted it; no more, no less. Self-pity wouldn't do her any good anymore.

Emily had also skipped the third and the fourth stage. Bargaining and depression. She had put those away with anger. Which left the last stage, acceptance.

Emily smiled sadly and leaned back until she could look up at the ceiling. It was just as concrete-grey as the rest of the room, but as she closed her eyes, she could see much more beautiful things there.

.

Dave literally put the pedal to the metal, as he sped past the big truck. They were only a few minutes outside of Harrisonburg now and Rossi was getting more and more anxious with every passing second. Reid and JJ almost simultaneously grabbed the door for support, as Rossi took a sharp right turn. Morgan's phone almost flew off his lap, but he managed to grab it the last second.

'Holy … Geez, Rossi! We need to get there in one piece,' he grumbled. Before the bearded agent next to him could answer, the cell in Morgan's hand rang.

'Baby girl?' Morgan asked, as soon as he had seen the caller ID and flipped open the phone. He listened for a minute.

'Got that. You might wanna call him back; tell him we'll be there in ten.'

Rossi overtook another truck.

'Make that five.'

Morgan put the phone into his jeans pocket and turned in his seat to look back at Reid and JJ.

'Hotch's at the police station already. He's been there not yet forty minutes. Garcia already sent everything she found on Fuller to him. She's still searching for properties that he might be using.'

JJ and Reid nodded and Dave sped up, a grim look on his face.

.

As the car came to a stop in front of the police station, it was hard to tell who was happiest to be out of the car and why. Rossi was glad to finally have reached Harrisonburg, because that meant that he could now actively partake in the search for Emily. Morgan was glad to be out of the car for the same reason, only that he additionally very much enjoyed having some solid ground under his feet again. JJ and Reid were pale and the blonde didn't argue when Morgan took her bag. For a moment Reid wanted to protest and ask why he had to carry his bag alone, but he didn't feel comfortable with opening his mouth yet. His stomach was still riding a rollercoaster.

The moment the agents had closed all the car doors and Morgan had slammed down the trunklid, the glass door to the station opened and Hotch stood in the doorway. Four faces immediately and simultaneously relaxed visibly. For a moment they smiled at their team leader, happy to have at least one missing friend back safe and sound.

.

_A/N: Let's get the ball rolling_.


	6. There's no trying

_Disclaimer see Chapter One._

.

Chapter Six: There's no trying

_Some men aren't looking for anything logical. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn.  
__(The Dark Knight) _

.

A few hurried greetings, pats and hugs were exchanged and then the five agents retreated back into the small police station. Detective Winter's office almost burst, as the agents entered. They all convinced their pale team leader to sit down on the only available chair in the room. It took a little longer for the others to adjust themselves to the scarce space, but finally everyone found a little spot.

JJ leaned against the wall next to the door and accidentally turned off the light with her elbow, when she first leaned back. Morgan stood in the back, in front of a cabinet overflowing with file folders. Rossi stood nearest to the desk behind which Hotch was seated and looked at his friend inquiringly. The traces of stress and lack of sleep were evident on the younger, dark-haired agent's face and the wound on Hotch's head, though not bleeding anymore, worried Rossi.

'Reid,' Dave addressed the young doctor who stood right in front of the door. 'Would you mind getting something to drink and if possible eat for Hotch?'

Reid nodded and was out the door before Hotch could even open his mouth.

'Don't you dare to argue,' Dave said, as he saw the look on Hotch's face. 'If you don't eat and drink something, I will tie you to that chair until you do.'

Hotch nodded and actually smiled a little at his old friend.

'Mom and Dad happily reunited,' Morgan murmured.

JJ, who had heard him, grinned. Then the door opened again and Reid stepped through, carrying bottles of water and a small blue plastic box. He almost dropped half the items, but Morgan grabbed the two bottles before they could hit the floor.

'Careful there,' he joked and earned a playful glare from Reid.

'Here,' Reid said, after putting down the other three bottles and handed Hotch the blue box. 'One of the detectives let me have his lunch.'

Hotch opened the box reluctantly, not willing to spend time on something as unimportant as eating or drinking. But as soon as he saw the cheese-and-salami sandwich, eating suddenly wasn't as irrelevant anymore. He devoured the first half in record time, not caring about the knowing smirk on Rossi's face. As he took the seconds half out of the box, Rossi began handing out the files to the team. Reid started skimming through the pages immediately, his eyes not stopping for a second.

Hotch swallowed the last bite of the sandwich and reached for one of the water bottles. He really hadn't realized how hungry or thirsty he was. But now that he thought of it, it had been three days since he had last eaten. He froze, the bottle halfway to his mouth. Emily hadn't eaten in three days, either and she hadn't had any water. He took a small gulp of the cool water. Two seconds ago water had been something wonderful, now it only tasted moldy.

'Let's start,' Hotch said. He needed to focus on his work, the one thing he had control over at the moment. The others nodded.

'I've been through everything Garcia sent me on Fuller. He grew up in L.A; his mother was an elementary school teacher, his father worked for a bank. He is an only child, went to good schools, had good grades. After finishing school, he studied law at Stanford and then went to the academy. He was a patrolman for four years, before he joined the FBI and moved to D.C. He has no criminal record, his psyche evaluation was unsuspicious. There is nothing in his past, that suggests that he experienced any kind of mental trauma,' Hotch summed up everything he had read in the files.

'Which means that something must have happened recently and that served as the stressor,' Reid piped up. He had already reached the last page of the file. He looked up and brushed a strand of his long hair behind his ear.

'He doesn't seem to have much of a personal life,' Morgan said without looking up from his file.

'Neither do we, really.' Rossi looked at the dark agent and shrugged.

'Yeah, but look at that: He hasn't been missing from work one day since the day he joined the BAU. Never been sick. Never even been injured while on an assignment. Either he's a worse workaholic than Hotch, or he does a sloppy job. Seriously, Rossi, do you now any FBI agent that hasn't been injured somewhere along the line of duty?'

'Me,' Rossi said earnestly and looked at Morgan challengingly.

'Well, there we go.'

Rossi already had his mouth open, a clear challenge in his eyes. Hotch lifted up a hand and stopped both agent's before they could say something they would regret later. His eyes were still on the file.

'Stop right there. Morgan is right. Fuller is obviously not a sociable person, but neither does he seem to repel those around him or there would be something in his file.'

'Which means that he must be a good actor,' Reid gladly took the line Hotch threw him, 'He is able to conceal his true emotions and intentions.'

'Which, again, is not surprising for an FBI agent,' Rossi joined the conversation again, his back turned to Morgan. His posture was less hostile, however.

'So, basically, we got nothing?' Morgan asked. The other agents hung their heads.

'No, Morgan,' Hotch spoke up and stood. 'I wouldn't say we got nothing. We know exactly who we are looking for and that is more than we usually have.' The agent started to pace - two steps left, two steps right.

'Fuller told Emily and me that he thought what he did would eventually help the FBI. He made it all sound like an experiment of sorts. I think he sees himself as a scientist. He said his achievement would change the BAU in a way that neither Gideon, nor you, Dave, nor me ever did.'

'So he's a classical narcissist,' Rossi commented, 'And he's obviously jealous of you, Aaron. That might be the reason why he abducted you in the first place. Emily might have been at the wrong place at the wrong time.'

'He might have been looking for you,' Reid provided and Rossi nodded in agreement.

'Guys,' JJ suddenly piped up and the heads of all four men turned to the blond woman. 'Why would Fuller abduct Hotch and Emily? It would have been much less of a risk to get Rossi.'

Hotch looked at JJ for a moment, before he answered her. He saw the pain in her eyes and he wanted to comfort her, tell her that no matter how crazy Fuller was, they would get Emily back. But he felt too much like he needed some comfort himself.

'Fuller thinks the Bureau will eventually realize that what he's done is a great scientific achievement. From what he said, I conclude that he has done this before - multiple times. But he only ever had one victim. Abducting two people was his last step. A method he had never tried out before. I'm pretty sure he knew exactly where all off us where and I am also very sure that he took Emily and me from the coffee shop on purpose. Partly, maybe, to show us what he can do, but I also think he wanted to confuse you. If you take someone from in front of a large crowd, it is much harder to find out where they have gone, because everyone saw everything and nothing.'

'Ok,' JJ said, sounding defeated. 'But where does that lead us? We seem to know so much about this man, he isn't even a real UnSub, but our knowledge isn't of any use.'

JJ's sentence ended with a small sob. She bravely tried to hide her face behind a curtain of hair. Reid was at her side almost immediately and though he was usually more than uncomfortable and clumsy with people, the hug he pulled JJ into seemed to really calm her.

_I'm sorry_, Hotch wanted to say, apologize for being where Emily should be. But he was a trained agent and he would not break down now. There had to be time for that later, _after_ they had found Emily. He didn't allow himself to think _if_ and instead thought _when_.

'JJ,' Hotch addressed the blond woman when he was sure his voice would not give away his inner turmoil. 'I know this is hard, but we need to work this like any case, even though it's not. We all need a clear head.'

His poker face was back in place and as the other agents nodded, they all wondered where their team leader drew his strength from.

'We should -' Hotch started, but was interrupted by the ringing of Morgan's cell phone.

'Baby girl?' The dark man asked as he saw the caller ID. He listened intently to the technical analyst, well aware of all the hopeful gazes that were trained on him. 'I'll call ya back, thanks.'

Before he had put his phone back in his pocket, Reid burst out: 'And?'

'Well' Morgan looked at the doctor with the tiniest of grins on his lips, 'Garcia might have found our stressor. Four months ago, Fuller sent a manuscript with the title _The mind of the Others_ to a publisher. Garcia found out just now 'cause he didn't give his real name, but a pen name, Basil T. Fouler.'

'That's an anagram for Tobias Fuller!' Reid piped up, wearing that slightly removed look on his face that indicated that his brain was working faster than any Chinese supercomputer.

'Yeah, but the interesting' part is that the script was rejected.'

'I think we just got ourselves a stressor,' Rossi summed up, but he did not look happy. 'The question is, where does this take us?'

'It shows us the time we need to pay special attention to,' Hotch said, looking at his old friend, searching his face for some kind of hope.

'Garcia is no magician,' Dave pointed out. He could see the wish in Hotch's eyes, the wish that he held the answer; that he knew something that would shed light on the matter. But David Rossi was no magician himself, as he had had to find out - too many times for his liking - in the past.

'She is already working on finding out if Fuller has any unrecorded property. And tracing his movements back for four months is gonna take time, time that Emily doesn't have.'

Silence fell in the small office. It pressed down on the team of agents like water, threatening to suffocate them. No one spoke; they all knew they had been trained for this, cases that brought them to their limits.

The knowledge that they could never save everyone was deeply ingrained in their minds. But not one of the five agents was ready to accept that. Not now, not yet, not ever.

.

_A/N: I am terribly that it took me so long to get this updated; I did not abandon this story. But I have been working like crazy for school and even sleep was a luxury. I hope some people are still with me. The next chapter will definitely be up faster_.


	7. Inside you're ugly

_Disclaimer see Chapter One._

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Chapter Seven: Inside you're ugly

_A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, but he is braver five minutes longer.  
__(Ralph Waldo Emerson)_

.

Emily felt herself going crazy. It almost was like drinking too many cocktails; first, you feel nothing, then, as you have to go to the toilet for the first time, you realize you're a little wobbly and a little tipsy. If you keep on drinking, you will end up seeing the room spin every time you so much as blink. If you keep on drinking after that state, you will wake up in the bathroom, having the hangover of your life.

Right now, Emily felt exactly as if she was drunk. Only not the alcohol was spreading through her system, but the craziness. She wanted to scream, she wanted to rage, even though her wrists were already bloody. And then she suddenly felt like laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of her whole situation.

When she started to go over her childhood experiences and tried to remember what her mother had worn the last time she had dinner with her, Emily felt nausea hit her. She was sitting in a basement, waiting for death to come in whatever form Fuller would chose. Only years of practice kept Emily from retching. Her breathing got shallow and she felt her heart beat furiously against her ribcage. Slowly she got her breathing under control. She had her chin on her chest and her eyes closed and was counting from one to a hundred. While she counted, she tried to think of nothing but the numbers. Even the ticking from the clock seemed less loud than before.

As Emily reached one hundred, she lifted her head up and opened her eyes. She was not going to give up. If she was to die, she was going to do so with her head held high. A man like Fuller would not break her, not now, not ever. Because she was a fighter and no matter how afraid she was, she would control her fear.

She would not die with fear being the last thing she felt and a pair of hateful eyes being the last thing she saw. She would die knowing that she was the best person she could be; Emily would die unafraid.

.

Hotch could almost feel the walls closing in on him. The office was too small for five people and it was hot and the air was stale. He knew he should be able to keep it together, be strong; if not for himself than for the others. But he couldn't any longer.

'Excuse me,' he said and rushed from the room.

The agents stared after their leader, all surprised in their own way by his sudden behavior. They had never seen him lose it before.

Rossi was the first to move.

'I got it,' he said. The door fell shut behind him.

.

The three left agents stared at each other.

Finally Morgan spoke up.

'You think he's gonna be OK?' he asked, looking first at JJ and then at Reid. His dark brows were furrowed and he had a concerned look on his face.

'Would you be?' Reid asked back and Morgan had to admit that he didn't know if he actually would be.

.

Dave found Hotch standing just outside the station, leaning against the wall with closed eyes.

'I know you don't want to hear this, Aaron,' Rossi started, coming to stand in front of Hotch. The younger agent only sighed softly, but didn't look at his friend. 'But we can do this without you. We _will _find her, but you don't have to be here. You look as if you would faint any minute; you need medical attention and rest.'

A police car drove into the parking lot and two men got out. Both were laughing and as they entered the station, the younger one of the two nudged the other one, who in return tousled his partner's hair. Rossi watched them until they disappeared behind the doors. Then he turned back to Hotch. He was looking at him, but the weariness in his eyes was evident.

'I know, Dave,' Hotch admitted softly. 'But I can't let this one go. Emily is … she is there because of me.'

If Rossi noticed Hotch's use of Prentiss' first name, he didn't comment on it.

'Hotch, this is not your fault, you hear me?' Dave put his hands on Hotch's shoulders. The habit of taking the blame for everything seemed to come with the job, as Rossi knew from own experience.

'No one could have known what would happen. Not you, not me. Don't do this to yourself.'

Hotch shook his head. 'Dave, that's not-' He stopped and took a deep breath. His eyes were now trained on the asphalt. 'Fuller did not just let me go, he made us choose. He said he'd let one of us go, while the other one would have to stay. I wanted to stay, but Emily … she wouldn't let me. She said I needed to go home; for Jack.'

Having finished his confession didn't make Hotch feel better in the least. In his ears it had sounded like a very lame excuse. He could not bring himself to look at Dave again, fearing he might see the same disappointment he felt there. But when Dave spoke up his voice was calm and sympathetic.

'Aaron, you know this kind of UnSub. He manipulates others for pleasure. Don't let him get into your head. If you do, he wins.' Rossi patted Hotch's shoulder one last time. 'Let's go back inside; we have a team member to rescue.'

Hotch took another deep breath, then he squared his shoulder and followed Dave inside.

.

As Hotch and Rossi stepped back into the small office, JJ, Reid and Morgan turned to them. The one question was clear on their faces. Rossi nodded, barely noticeable, and the agents relaxed, visibly, this time. Hotch ignored it and took his seat behind the desk again.

'We, um, thought about something,' Reid said, as soon as Hotch had sat down. The young doctor didn't like awkward silences, even though, in the past, he had caused some himself.

'Are we sure that the rejection of his script is the only stressor? If that was the case, wouldn't Fuller have taken revenge on those he thought responsible for his failures? Because our victimology does not fit out profile. But both our profile and our victimology seem to be correct, so maybe there is a second stressor; one that we have missed.'

Reid looked at Hotch expectantly. It was Rossi who answered the young man. 'It could be possible.'

He, too, looked at Hotch, who nodded absentmindedly.

'Morgan,' Rossi addressed Derek. 'Call Garcia again.'

Morgan only nodded. He only had to press the '1' and Garcia's voice could be heard in the small room.

'PG here. I didn't expect you back quite that fast, dearest pet.'

'Hey, girl, you're on speaker,' Morgan said and grinned. 'Did you find anything in Fuller's recent past that doesn't fit? 'Cause we think there was a second stressor.'

'Well, it's a good thing I'm me,' Garcia gave back. There was the sound of a lot of typing in the background. 'I found something hinky with Fuller's bank statements.'

'What'ya mean? Hinky?' Morgan had his brows furrowed.

'You know, hinky as in … never mind.' Garcia's smile could be heard over the phone. 'Anyways, as I said, my pets, as I looked over Fuller's bank statements, I found very large sums of money that he transferred. He made it look as if the money went to different people and stores. Like a mechanic, a tailor, etcetera. But the sums seemed just too high and when I checked, I found that these payments actually were transferred to a hospital. A very expensive and lets say exclusive hospital, the _St. Balthazar Hospital_. So I dug a little deeper and found out that Fuller had visited someone in that hospital at least once a month. Usually when he was supposedly away on an assignment. He used his pen name for the visitor registration. He always visited the same patient, a woman with the name Lisa Fuller.'

'Did you say Lisa Fuller?' Hotch interjected, getting up from his chair.

'Yes, sir. And I dug even deeper into Mr Creep's life because of the name and I found out that Tobias Fuller Senior was traveling around the country a lot for the bank he was working for. Long story short, Fuller Senior had an affair with a Melissa Carter and they had a daughter, Lisa. Fuller Senior is not registered as Lisa's father, but he paid for her schooling and so on. I don't know how Fuller Junior found out about his sister, but over a year ago, he started writing her and even met with her. However, not five months ago, Lisa Fuller attempted suicide and has been hospitalized ever since. Her treatment is being paid for by her brother, Tobias Fuller.'

'Garcia, thank you,' Hotch spoke up, before Morgan could. 'You are a genius and I say that because I know it's true.'

'Well, this genius is all yours. I call if I find any more revealing information about his guy. Garcia over and out.'

The team didn't know where exactly Garcia had managed to pull all that information from, but she had just added another important piece to the puzzle that was Tobias Fuller.

.

_A/N: Btw, do my quotes fit? 'Cause I'm a freak when it comes to (good) quotes. If anyone has some other ones just lying around, please, send them to me. ;)_


	8. If you only knew

_Disclaimer see Chapter One._

.

Chapter Eight: If you only knew

_Destiny is not a matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for, but a thing to be achieved.  
__(William Bryan)_

_._

Hotch felt better. Not good; no, far from that. But they had a lead. He wasn't chasing just a name anymore. There was some solid evidence they could base a solid profile on.

'JJ, Reid,' Hotch said to the two youngest members of his team, while checking the additional information on Fuller's sister that Garcia had sent to his phone. 'I want you to go to visit Lisa Fuller at the hospital. Garcia sent you all necessary information, too. Try to find out if she has any idea as to what her brother has been up to the past months. Also ask her if she knows where he might be hiding.'

JJ and Reid nodded and where out of the door in a second. On a whim, JJ handed the car keys to Reid. His smile and stuttered 'Thank you' eased the burden on JJ's shoulders a little. And for that feeling, the one she had seen in Reid's eyes, she was ready to take a few minutes of very bad driving - Reid might be a genius and a doctor, but he was no race driver.

.

JJ and Reid had barely stepped out of the door, when Hotch all but fell back into his chair. His face was white with exhaustion and his hands under the table trembled.

'Hotch, man, you look-' Morgan started, but Dave motioned him to stop.

'Call a doctor, Derek,' he said to the dark man and Morgan nodded and stepped out into the hallway.

'Dave, it told you, I'm in on this,' Hotch objected, but his voice sounded as tired as he looked.

'I know.' Rossi stepped next to his old friend and put a hand onto his shoulder for a brief moment. 'But let a doctor have a look at your wounds. After that I'd like to talk to you about anything you might remember that could give us a clue.'

Hotch nodded. He looked up at Rossi, brows furrowed. 'I had almost forgotten that I was a witness this time; you are not going to make me sit in an interrogation room, are you, Dave?' It had been intended as a joke, but the sarcasm got lost halfway.

'No,' Dave simply gave back. He took another one of the files from the table and started skipping through it.

Hotch was staring at his bruised, shaking fingers. He had just realized another thing - he wasn't simply a witness, he was a victim, too. And he did not like the feeling that came with that one bit.

.

As they walked through the corridors of the vast hospital, JJ and Reid thought about very different things.

Reid was wondering how it was that most hospitals looked exactly the same. Almost bare of color, sterile and always smelling faintly of alcohol and a mass of rubber gloves. Of course the young doctor knew his statistics; most hospitals were build according to a pretty similar pattern which was supposed to optimize the way the doctors and nurses had to walk, the way critical patients would have to cover to get to an OR and that presented the shortest route for all patients to the nearest emergency exit.  
Still, Reid felt uncomfortable here, where everything seemed impersonal and a human was not much more than an object; here, the money counted, not the person.

JJ on the other hand was thinking about Lisa Fuller. Until this day, she had not found out the reason for her sister's suicide. She briefly touched the golden necklace around her neck that she wore almost every single day now. The sound of her heels on the linoleum floor ricocheted off the white walls.  
Whenever JJ was confronted with a suicide, she was overcome with sympathy. Sympathy for the family and the dead. It still eluded her, the sadness or pain a person must feel that would make them take their own life and leave everyone they loved behind.  
But JJ did not want to judge people. She only had her own life, she didn't know what or how other's felt.

Reid saw JJ square her shoulders and a determined expression spread across her face. Reid matched his steps to hers, as she took the short flight of stairs leading to Lisa's room.

.

The number was _2204_ and the door looked just the same as the numbers _2203_ and _2205_.

Before JJ put her hand on the doorknob, she knocked softly. Then she pushed the door open. The small room that welcomed her was _different_ from what she had expected. The sterile white walls were covered with drawings. Large and small ones, colored ones and some drawn with pencils. Safe for the windows, every inch of wall, closed or table was covered. JJ gazed at the drawings in amazement.  
It was as if a whole world had been captured on paper. There were shapes in bright colors, fairytale woods and people looking as if they were about to march right into the room.

JJ heard Reid murmur _Wow_ behind her. And her eyes fell onto the woman in the bed that looked huge in comparison to Lisa Fuller.

She was a small woman, not much taller than five foot, and she was very thin. She looked like a young girl, the way that she looked at JJ and Reid with huge, green eyes. Her auburn hair was cut short. She could have been one of the fairies from her own pictures.

'Can I help you?' she asked and put down the pencil and the sketch-book in her hands. Her voice pulled JJ and Reid out of their musings.

'We are with the FBI,' JJ said. 'I'm Agent Jareau and this is Doctor Reid. We would like to ask you some questions if that is alright with you.'

'Sure, have a seat.' Lisa Fuller motioned to the two chairs standing next to the paper-covered table.

'Thank you.' JJ took a longer than usually to sit down; Lisa Fuller had surprised her. She had expected an older and by far not as lucid woman.

Reid shot JJ a glance and she took the lead in the questioning.

'Miss Fuller, we-'

Lisa interrupted her. 'My name is Carter. I never officially took my father's last name. My brother's last name is Fuller. He pays my bills here and visits me. Therefore he put his last name on the form he had to fill out.'

'Miss Carter,' JJ corrected, 'We are here because of your brother. When was the last time you saw him?'

Lisa furrowed her brows.

'He came by a few days ago. I think on Friday.'

'Four days,' Reid murmured.

'Did he seem different? Distracted?' JJ wanted to know, while she wrote down the date of Fuller's last visit. Reid would remember everything perfectly later, but she liked to take a few notes for herself.

'No. He was polite, a little lost in thought, maybe, but nothing out of the ordinary.' The woman sat up a little straighter and pulled her thin blanket almost up to her chin. 'Why are you asking all these questions about my brother? Has something happened?'

It was a question to which JJ knew various possible answers: She could tell Lisa Carter that her brother had killed many people, kidnapped two FBI agents and was still holding one of them captive. Or she could tell her that it was just a routine questioning to determine Tobias Fuller's current whereabouts.  
She opted for the truth - sans the gruesome details.

'Your brother abducted two FBI agents three days ago,' JJ started and locked eyes with Lisa. The small woman's face showed no reaction. 'They are my colleagues and my friends; he let one of them go, but he is still holding the other one. I need to know if he ever told you anything that might suggest where he keeps that agent. Or has he ever mentioned a place that he likes to visit around here?'

JJ leaned back anxiously, her hands clenched tightly in her lap.

.

Reid was astounded, to say the least. The information that he had gotten from Lisa Fuller's file - which he read in under one minute on the short elevator ride from the parking garage up to the first floor - had suggested that the woman was lucid but that her hospitalization was required. He had expected her to have some mental instability which would not allow her to leave the hospital yet. Reid had _not_, however, expected to find a woman quite like Lisa Fuller. He hoped that she could help them find her brother and Emily.

.

'My brother never talked much when he visited me,' Lisa said, her eyes never leaving JJ's face. 'He would ask me about my therapy, my day, my newest picture. Sometimes he would tell me about his work. Never much, though. I always got the impression that he didn't particularly enjoy his work.'

'He never mentioned any details? A superior he did not like?'

'Like I said, Agent Jareau, my brother never really told me anything. He pays my bills and visits me, because he hates our father and feels as if he has an obligation towards me. The only thing he always said was that he was going to make it all better. I am truly sorry, but I can not help you. I wish I could.'

JJ only nodded. The disappointment was clearly written on her face.

'Might I ask why you are here, Miss Carter?' Reid could not hold back the question. It might not help him find Emily, but maybe it would tell him something more about Fuller himself, why he felt committed to take care of his sister while not including anybody else into his life.

At that, Lisa smiled for the first time.

'I'm sure you know that I tried to kill myself, doctor,' she said, but didn't wait for an answer. 'They told me that therapy sessions were standard procedure after a suicide attempt. Apparently my doctor did not like what she learned about me.'

'What did she learn?' Reid leaned forward in his chair.

'I can not lie; it is impossible for me. And believe me, it's not as great as it might sound. Honesty is not something that is accepted in the society out there. I had to learn the hard way that people don't want to hear the truth, they just want to hear what sounds best. They want you to tell them that politics is not only about money and that their new dress looks amazing, even though they know that both is a lie.'

'You are hospitalized because you are unable to lie?'

'I am here, because I told my doctor that I would try to kill myself again the moment I got out of this hospital. Only this time, I would do it right.'

The face of the young woman showed almost no emotions, as her smile faded, but Reid saw the sadness in her eyes.

'I'm sorry,' he said and meant it.

'What for?' Lisa asked, not looking at Reid. She grabbed her sketch-book and her pencil and started drawing. She seemed to turn into a child right in front of JJ and Reid.

'For your situation,' Reid gave back haltingly. He did not really know what he was sorry for, just that Lisa Carter intrigued him and that he liked her drawing very much, for they seemed to bring all the places from the books his mother had read to him to life.

'You do not have to be sorry for that,' Lisa said while her hand flew about the paper. 'I still thank you.'

.

Reid looked over to JJ, knowing that they would not get much more information out of Lisa - at least nothing that could significantly help them.

'Thank you for your time, Miss Carter,' JJ said and got up, Reid following her example. There was no answer from Lisa.

JJ was already out the door, phone in hand, when Reid noticed one smaller watercolor drawing.

'Miss Carter.' He turned around.

'Yes?' Her hand stopped and she looked up at him with a faraway look in her eyes.

Reid pointed at the drawing. 'Where is this?'

'I'm sorry, doctor,' Lisa gave back, resting her head back on her many cushions and her attention already shifting. 'My brother once brought me a few pictures; I just copied one of them.'

Reid felt the giddiness take him over as it always did when he knew that he had found an important piece.

'Reid?' JJ asked and stepped back into the room.

'JJ, this is it,' Reid said without elaborating, excitedly gesturing around. 'Miss Fuller, do you still have the original photograph?'

'Yes.'

The small woman pushed the blanket back, revealing a mint green nightgown. Her pencil clattered to the floor, but she did not seem to notice. She retrieved a small, wooden chest from her closet. A bundle of pictured and letters and small toys were in the chest. Lisa pulled out one of the photos and handed it to Reid. Then she neatly put everything back and returned to her bed.

'You can keep it,' she said, her hand already grabbing for the pencil.

JJ looked at the picture over Reid's shoulder.

.

The house was small, painted white with blue window frames. It was surrounded by big, old trees and there were several rose bushes and a neatly mowed lawn.

.

_A/N: Terribly sorry! But this final exam stuff is really taking its toll on me and my nerves.  
__Oh and btw, I have no idea if there is actually a disease that forces people to tell the truth, but since there is a disease that makes you lie … Any doctors out there?_


	9. Battling it out

_Disclaimer see Chapter One._

.

Chapter Nine: Battling it out

_People who doubt can have great faith, because faith is something you do, not something you think._

.

JJ almost forgot to thank Lisa for the photo. Her hands were trembling as she took a picture of the house with her phone and sent it to Garcia.

'Find out where this is and tell me the moment you do,' JJ said to the technical analyst. There was already a lot of peeping and typing to be heard in the background.

'Okayzay, my little zebra, you got it.' Garcia hung up and JJ stared at her phone for a moment, her brows furrowed. Then she turned to Reid. The doctor had already called the rest of the team and was putting his phone away.

JJ started towards the steps again and Reid fell into step beside her. He dangled the keys in front of her eyes.

'You better drive.'

.

JJ and Reid hadn't yet reached the police station, when her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and handed it to Reid. There was a lot of traffic on the highway and JJ was going so fast, she almost had Reid calculate the probability of them reaching speed of light.

'Yes?' Reid listened for a while, nodding from time to time. 'Okay, we're on our way.'

He put the phone into his own jeans pocket. 'Garcia found the house; it belonged to Tobias Fuller's grandmother. His father's mother. It was still registered to her, so it didn't come up during Garcia's earlier search. She already sent the address to the others and they'll meet us there. You have to get off at the next exit.'

JJ sped off the highway, biting her lower lip. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tighter.

.

The dark SUVs arrived at the white house with the blue window frames, followed by police cars with their sirens on. Hotch, Dave and Morgan at his heels, jumped out of the first car, leaving the car doors open. JJ and Reid joined the group, both putting on their bulletproof vest. The other three already had donned theirs.  
The police chief was a burly man with close-cropped hair and a heavy mustache. He greeted Hotch shortly, gave all the others a nod and then went to instruct his men. In no time, most of the police officers were searching the area, while the rest positioned themselves behind Hotch and his team in front of the door.

'Go,' Hotch said and the team and the policemen moved in, weapons drawn and at the ready.

Morgan took the door down with one hard kick. It hit the wall with a loud bang that seemed to echo through the whole house.

Hotch didn't wait for every room to be checked and secured; for once, he did not care about protocol or his safety. He almost ran down the corridor, looking for the green door that was the only part of the house that he had seen - apart from the basement.  
The door was just down the hall, to the right. It looked so innocuous from up close, but he was afraid of what he might find behind it. The concrete stairs and at the end - Emily. Alive, she had to be alive. There was still time left. Hotch hoped so, at least.  
The door was locked and Hotch pushed it open with his shoulder. The staircase seemed longer than when Fuller had walked down. He could see the one deserted chair, the one he had sat on. And as he took another step, he saw the second chair and a bloody and battered Emily sitting on it. There was not much space to hide in and Hotch holstered his weapon swiftly and moved to Emily's side. He felt her pulse while cutting her bonds. He was breathing so hard that it took him some time to find her pulse, but then he felt it. Maybe a little weak, but steady.

'Emily?' he whispered and hesitantly touched her cheek. He felt sick when she didn't move.

But then her eyelids fluttered like a small bird's wings. 'I'll never doubt you guys every again,' she croaked.

Hotch lifted her up from the chair and carried her up into the house. At the top of the stairs he met two police detectives, but he walked past them without really seeing them. He didn't know it, but his face was a blank, hard mask.

The paramedics were already waiting outside and Hotch gently put Emily down onto a gurney. As the paramedics started fussing over Emily, they asked Hotch to step back - which he did hesitantly. But then he heard Dave called out to him. The older agent was standing on the first of the four steps leading up to the front door.

.

'We searched the whole house and most of the grounds - Fuller isn't here,' Dave said and crossed his arms in front of his chest. 'But you didn't really expect to find him here, did you?'

Hotch wearily ran his fingers through his hair. 'No. But to be honest, I did not know what to expect. Right now I'm just glad we found her,' he admitted. He felt very tired all of a sudden.

Dave patted his shoulder and looked over to where Emily lay on her gurney.

'Shit!' he said and turned away from Hotch, his hand moving to his weapon at his hip.

'Wha- ' Hotch started and turned around as well.

.

It was an almost strange sight. Hotch didn't know what to make of it. Tobias Fuller was standing next to Emily's sleeping form, with a gun pointed at her head. The paramedics had backed away and the few cops that saw the danger had their weapons drawn, but looked indecisive. Hotch drew his weapon, too, neither he nor Dave or the cops had a clear shot. Emily's propped up head was in the direct line of fire.  
Moving very slowly, Hotch stepped down from the porch and walked towards Fuller. He took deep breaths, trying to keep his gun steady. He could hear his team move up behind him.

'You know, _Agent_ Hotchner, I actually hoped it would end like this,' Fuller said. He looked like a man who had nothing to lose; or like a lunatic. His hand didn't waver, he did not seem to see anyone but Hotch and his face and voice were calm. Hotch moved a tiny step closer.

'Emily here doesn't look quite as fresh as you do, but maybe she will be alright. I guess, it is up to you,' Fuller said and held a strand of Emily's dark hair between his thumb and forefinger. Hotch relaxed his finger on the trigger. It would have been so easy to just shoot him.

'As I said,' he went on, releasing the strand of hair which fell back onto the white of the gurney. 'I am glad we ended up here together. I wasn't sure if you would make it out of the wood. But you did and here you are. Do you know why that makes me so happy?'

He waited for an answer, but Hotch kept silent. 'No? Why, because I need something from you.'

The cuts that the doctor had cleaned and bandaged felt as if they were burning. And Hotch's insides seemed to be burning, too.

'I gave you everything. What else could you possibly want from me?' Hotch asked, his voice flat, forcing it to not betray the turmoil inside of him.

'A favor, if you want. Most artists only become famous after they are dead.'

'You are neither,' Hotch said. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a few policemen advance carefully. But the gun that Fuller still held to Emily's head kept them away.

Fuller touched Emily's hair again, staring at Hotch all the while. 'You could help me.'

.

The offer seemed to be floating in the air separating Fuller and Hotch.

'You want me to kill you?' Hotch's mind was working at full speed, running through all his options and possible outcomes.

'Wouldn't it make your life a lot easier?' Fuller asked and Hotch decided, simultaneously with the rest of this team and half the cops, that Fuller was a madman who had nothing at all to lose.

'I will not throw away my life.'

Hotch lowered his weapon slightly. Fuller, however, pressed his harder into Emily's temple.

'Do I really have to kill poor Agent Emily first?' he asked and sighed, sounding very much like a father who was talking to his stubborn child. '_Her_ death would be such a waste; and unnecessary at that.'

Hotch ground his teeth so hard his jaw ached.

'What is your answer?' Fuller inquired after a few second.

'Go to hell,' Hotch simply said and aimed at Fuller's heart again.

'Too bad, Agent Hotchner, then we will all meet again there.'

'I don't think so, dirtbag!' The angry voice of Derek Morgan sounded from behind Fuller suddenly and the agent wrestled Fuller to the ground. Before they had both hit the pavement, everyone started to move, as if someone had pressed the _Play _button.

The team moved in on Fuller and Derek, who had his knee pressed into Fuller's back and was just handcuffing him. Rossi picked up his weapon.

'What I did was more important than anything you will every do!' Fuller screamed and Morgan pushed his head down onto the pavement.

'Shut up,' he commanded and roughly got Fuller to his feet.

'Maybe your cellmates will be more interested in your stories,' Dave said. 'From what I hear, men like you who slaughter women for fun aren't exactly high up the food chain in prison.'

Hotch was silent, until Morgan had managed to get Fuller into one of the police cars. Then he put a hand over his weary face, closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened his eyes again, the paramedics were just pushing Emily into the ambulance.

'I'll ride with Emily,' Hotch called out to Dave and jumped into the back of the ambulance. Sitting felt very good.

'We'll be right behind you!' he heard Dave shout back, before the doors closed.

.


	10. Dealing with life

_Disclaimer see Chapter One._

.

Chapter Ten: Dealing with life

_Life is not the amount of breaths you take. It's the moments that take your breath away.  
__(Hitch)_

.

Blue and red were the dots of light the police cars drew onto the asphalt outside the house. Two black SUVs were parked a little further up the street on the corner. Officers had closed off the area with yellow and black tape and were currently busy keeping both nosy neighbors and the press out of the investigating FBI agents' way. JJ was helping, trying to give the reporters just enough information to satisfy them until they were ready to give a real statement.  
The crime scene specialists had found twelve bodies in Fuller's backyard - so far. They hadn't even covered half the ground yet.

Rossi, Reid and Morgan didn't notice any of the ruckus going on outside. They were currently making their way through Fuller's house - as fast as possible. They all just wanted to check on Emily.  
So far they had went through the kitchen, which had been abnormally clean, and a small office that held nothing of interest for them. The living room was next. As soon as they stepped into the warm room, Reid walked over to a large bookcase that covered most of the opposite wall. While he perused Fuller's large collection, Rossi went over to take a closer look at the few personal objects on the mantelpiece. Morgan kneeled down and opened a small cabinet under the TV set.

'He has books on almost every topic,' Reid piped up first. He was holding a big tome that had the picture of a crying, a laughing and a sleeping toddler printed onto the front. 'There are books on aviation, anthropology, biology - there are even a few about the Enneagram.'

'The what?' Morgan asked, looking up from his spot on the floor. He held a _Saw IV_ DVD in his hand.

'The Enneagram of Personality. It's a kind of psychospiritual typology. There are nine personality types and each type has certain character traits attributed to it. Nowadays, it's mostly used in fields like education or psychotherapy. It's-'

'Yeah, Reid, I get it,' Morgan interrupted the doctor and turned his attention back on the DVD collection. So far he had found nothing of interest. There were a lot horror movies, _The Life Of Brian_ and some soft porn movies.

'His music collection ranges from _Nirvana _to _The_ _Spice Girls_ and Mozart,' Reid said more to himself than the other two men and grabbed a _Rammstein_ CD off the top shelf.

'This is interesting,' Rossi joined in. He was holding a delicate china ballerina. The figurine was about five inches tall and wore a golden skirt and light pink ballet shoes.

Both Morgan and Reid stepped closer to have a better look at the petite doll.

'Why is it interesting?' Reid finally asked, after looking at the doll from every possible angle. 'It could be a family heirloom.'

'And I think it is,' Dave admitted. 'But I don't think it belonged to Fuller's family.' Rossi turned the figurine upside-down and showed Morgan and Reid the underside.

'There is a dedication here. _To my beautiful angel Auriette_ and there is a date, _1955_,' Rossi read out. 'There is no one in his family named Auriette. I don't think these actually belonged to Fuller.'

Dave gestured to the various items on the mantelpiece behind him. There was a framed picture of two women, a small wooden music box, an old, golden clock and a jewellery case with a see-through top.

'Hey, man, I think that is Melissa Calden; the one that went missing at the parking lot,' Morgan said, pointing at the blonde in the picture. Rossi nodded and put the doll back where it had stood.

'So these are trophies?' Reid wanted to know. He was bending down and was looking at the various necklaces and rings inside the jewelry case. 'What does he keep them for? I thought we had eliminated the sexual component in his crimes. Usually UnSubs driven by some sexual need keep trophies to relive their crimes over and over again.'

'Yes, but even so I reckon he kept them to remind himself of all the good he was doing; of how all this would be worth it in the end,' Rossi pointed out. 'But I think we should have a look at the basement now. We put it off long enough.'

Reid and Morgan nodded reluctantly and slowly the three agents made their way down the concrete staircase. They came to stop in front of the white metal door. No one wanted to be the first to enter or the one to open the door. Finally Morgan put his hand on the doorknob and pushed the door open. A small clock greeted them, reading _00:00:00_ in bright red numbers.

.

The drive to the hospital wasn't a very long one, but when the back doors of the ambulance opened and the fading afternoon light streamed in, Hotch felt as if he had slept for hours - when his eyes had only been closed for five minutes.

The two men got Emily out of the car, but the woman barely moved. Her eyes were closed and her face peaceful - if it wasn't for her steady breathing, Hotch might think she was dead instead of just unconscious.  
He scrambled out of the ambulance and after the men. For the first time in hours he felt the ache in his body, in every single one of muscles. Every move and every breath hurt. As the adrenaline was leaving his body, the weariness returned.

The emergency room was crowed, but not quite as crazy as it was shown in movies or TV shows. Nurses and doctors were bustling about and as soon as the paramedics came in, a doctor and a nurse came to attend to Emily's injuries. Another green-clad nurse said something to Hotch, but he couldn't make out her words. He gazed after Emily, as they rolled her out the room and down a long, bright corridor.  
He felt the nurse tug at his sleeve and then take his elbow to guide him into a small room. He didn't object. Instead Hotch welcomed the feeling of lying down, as the nurse gently pushed him onto a hospital bed. He relished the softness of the blanket at his back and allowed himself to close his eyes for just a moment.

.

Hotch woke up with a start, his hand searching for his weapon. He looked around frantically, trying to figure out where he was, while his hand came up empty. His gun was not at his hip anymore, his jacket and tie were gone and he had a needle in his arm, with an IV dripping a clear fluid into his veins.  
Hotch's head spun for a moment from sitting up too fast, but when the world had adjusted, he slowly pulled the IV needle out of his arm. He ground his teeth at the sudden pain. Then Hotch pushed himself off the bed and got up.

A nurse came in just as he was putting on his jacket, which he had found on a chair near the only window in the room.

'Agent Hotchner!' the rather young woman exclaimed. 'You are not supposed to be getting up just yet! The doctor gave strict orders!'

'I need to talk to Agent Prentiss,' Hotch gave back, putting all the authority he could muster into his voice.

'She has just woken up, sir,' the nurse replied, clearly uncertain about what to do. She looked around like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

'I need to talk to her.' As the world started to slightly wobble, Hotch was about to rethink his idea.

'Where is my gun?' he asked instead, gesturing to the holster at his belt.

'Security has it.' Hotch nodded and opened the door, leaving the woman behind.

'Sir!' The young nurse ran after him, red spots appearing on her cheeks. She caught up the slightly dizzy agent in the middle of the corridor.

'Sir, I really must insist- ' the nurse started, but Hotch interrupted her.

'Miss- ' He glanced at her nametag. 'Cooper. I am going to talk to Agent Prentiss, because she has been in the hands of a serial killer for over three days and almost died. I am going to make sure that she is OK and then you can make a needle cushion out of me if you want.' Hotch took a breath, steadying himself at the wall. 'Now, are you going to show me to her room, or do I have to ask one of your colleagues?'

Clearly deciding that complying with Hotch's wishes would get her into less trouble, nurse Cooper nodded and took off down the corridor. Limping slightly, Hotch followed, his hand on the wall.

.

Emily's room was - luckily - not that far from his own. Still, by the time that nurse Cooper opened the door to room _1318_, Hotch was breathing a little heavy. He hit his exhaustion behind a mask of sternness and a curt nod. In her hurry to get away from him for at least a short moment, the nurse did not seem to notice and followed a doctor, who had just handed her a patient's chart, into a room two doors down the hall.

Hotch opened the door almost hesitantly, wondering suddenly about what it was that had driven him here. It wasn't just his urge to make sure that Emily was fine; it was also the wish to somehow get over his bad conscience. And, if he was completely honest, he also wanted to know if the closeness he had felt between them had only been born from the fear of dying.

Emily looked up at the sound of the door being softly closed. As her eyes finally focused, she saw a pale Aaron Hotchner clutching the wall, his eyes on her face.

'Hotch,' she murmured, barely audible even to her own ears. The sedative and the pain meds that were currently running through her veins made talking hard. 'Sit down.'

Her boss complied and that alone told Emily how tired and worn out he must be. For a moment, Hotch only sat on the small, uncomfortable chair next to Emily's bed without talking. He was scanning her face, taking in every small cut and bruise, his remorse growing with every new bandage that he found.  
Emily was watching him just as silently. The few times that she had been awake since everything had gotten dark in the basement, she had thought of Hotch. He had told her to trust the team and when she was on the verge of going crazy, the trust in him and her team had kept her upright. And in the end, they had found her and Hotch had carried her to safety. At least that was what Emily dimly remembered. His voice, full of concern, then his arms around her, after her bonds had been cut, and then the sunlight on her skin.

'What- ' Emily started, when she could not bare the silence, and his gaze, any longer. But Hotch got off his chair as if something had burned him and started pacing the room in a kind of wild frenzy.

'I don't understand it!' he finally admitted and though the words were said almost harshly, Emily detected uncertainty in the man's voice and an edge of defeat.

'What?' she croaked, trying to sit up a little straighter so she could better watch him.

'Everything. I stumbled through the woods, afraid that you would die. I tried to find Fuller, always afraid that you would die. I came to Fuller's house, afraid that you already _were_ dead; that you were dead because of me! Why did you do that? You should have been the one to get out there safely and relatively unharmed.'

With a weary look on his pale face, Hotch rubbed his eyes with his hands.

'You don't always have to be the hero, Hotch. You don't have to fight alone.'

He looked at her with a mixture of anger and bewilderment in his dark eyes. 'That's not an answer, Prentiss.'

So it was back to Prentiss. Emily sighed.

'I'm not like you, Hotch,' she tried again. 'I don't think everything I do through. Sometimes, I act without caring about the consequences, without even considering what consequences my actions could have. All I thought about was getting Jack's father back to him; to get you home safe.'

'You don't have a logical explanation for why you were willing to risk your life for mine?' Hotch demanded to know, still pacing. 'What you did was stupid and reckless. Why would you- '

'Because I fell in love with you.'

Hotch just looked at her, frozen to the spot. His eyes were like seas and Emily could see no ground. They looked at each other, one rigid and unmoving, the other vulnerable and small. Suddenly the door was jerked open and the air seemed to flow back into the room. Hotch seemed to wake from his trance and Emily trained her eyes on her other colleagues, who were walking in, one after the other.

Reid, Morgan and Rossi bustled into the room, completely oblivious to what was going on between their co-workers. While Dave went to pat Hotch an the shoulder, Reid and Morgan came to stand left and right of Emily's bed.

'Hey, you scared us. We- ' Morgan started, but Emily didn't listen further, because Hotch had just said something to Rossi and was now discreetly leaving the room. Only Dave noticed her looking. But he decided to put further inquiries off. At least for the time being.

'- statistically speaking that would be 3.5 percent,' Reid ended. Emily hadn't even realized that he had started to talk. Now she forced her eyes to leave the spot where Hotch had been just seconds ago and instead focused her eyes and thoughts on the young doctor and the rest of the team.

_They_ were here now; everything else would have to wait.

.

_A/N: I am not sure if I got the conversations 'right' this time._


	11. Comes and goes

_Disclaimer see Chapter One._

.

Chapter Eleven: Comes and goes

_Love means never having to say you're sorry.  
__(Love Story)_

.

Emily awoke to the sound of her loudly beating heart. For a minute she just lay on her bed, listening to it ricocheting against her ribcage. Finally her body stopped shivering enough for her to push the damp covers off her slim frame. She swung her legs out of the bed and padded down the stairs into her living room.

The moon shone through the curtains covering the big windows and painted silver striped onto the carpeted floor. Emily walked on into the adjoining kitchen. As she bent down to glance at the digital clock on the microwave, she almost hit her head on the low-hanging cupboard. The timer read _00:09_.

_Great_, Emily thought. The last two nights she had at least managed to get a good two hours of sleep, before being woken by her repeating nightmares. Or rather nightmare. For it was the same dream that haunted her since she had been released from the hospital. The doctors had not been happy to let her go after only three days, but Emily had signed all the paper nonetheless, hoping that she would feel better once back in her own home. But she had taken none of the medication that the doctors had given her and her sleep had been disturbed by dark dreams. Usually, she would dream about Hotch, about what could have happened had her choice been a different, had their places been reversed. In her dreams, Fuller was leading her up the stairs into freedom, a sinister grin on his otherwise cold face. She fought, for she did not want to leave Hotch behind, but Fuller was stronger. In the end, she found herself standing in the middle of a small clearing, surrounded by trees and she heard Hotch's voice asking _Why did you do that?_

Sighting, she straightened back up and reached for a glass in the sink. She was just debating whether it would be orange juice or coffee – if she was to be kept awake by her dreams anyways she could as well drink coffee – as someone knocked shyly at her door.

Emily put the glass she still held down and walked over to the door. She couldn't think of any normal person that would knock on her door in the middle of the night. It couldn't be one of her colleagues or Garcia, they had all visited her frequently during the last three days.  
With furrowed brows Emily opened the door, not even bothering to look through the peephole.

_._

Her eyes widened with surprise as she saw Hotch standing on her threshold. He had only visited her once, in the hospital. He had said hello, checked with the doctor and had been out so fast that Emily hadn't been sure if she had imagined him being there. But she was pretty sure that he was really standing right before her now.

'Hotch,' she said, her hand still holding on to the doorknob like it was a lifebuoy.

'I'm sorry for bothering you this late,' he finally said after his eyes had traveled up her body, taking in her sleeping clothes - a pair of worn-out sweat pants and a loose Yale T-shirt.

His face looked haggard and apparently he hadn't slept much longer than she had, if at all.

'You're not bothering me. I wasn't sleeping anyways,' Emily replied honestly. Then she took a step back, releasing her hold on the doorknob.

'Do you want to come in?' she added and took another step back.

Hotch seemed reluctant at first and it wasn't hard for Emily to figure out what was going through his mind; she didn't need to be a Profiler for that. Finally, he gave a small nod and followed her into her apartment. He had been here before and still he looked around interestedly, as if making sure that nothing had changed and that everything was still as it should be. Emily left him to look around and returned to her forgotten glass in the kitchen.

'Do you want something to drink?' she called, as she filled the glass with orange juice. With Hotch standing in her living room she definitely didn't need caffeine to further boost her heart rate.

'No, thank you.'

She hadn't expected him to.

As she stepped out of the kitchen, Hotch was still standing there in the living room, his back to her, looking completely out of place. His suit was immaculate, his tie perfectly bound and yet something looked out of place.

'Why are you here?' Emily asked the obvious question. She took a few steps towards him, but still left an appropriate distance between them.

'I guess, I needed to see you were alright,' he admitted after a short while. His back was tense and he stood there facing the great windows that led onto the balcony. You could only see a rough outline of the buildings through the curtains. Emily furrowed her brows. The _guess_ had surprised her. She had never known Hotch as anything but sure of everything he said.

'I'm fine, Hotch,' she answered gently. She didn't want him to feel bad for something that had been her decision. Sometimes Emily felt as if giving everything she had was the only way of showing people just how much she needed, appreciated and loved them.

Hotch turned around abruptly.

'Aren't you mad at me at all? Don't you blame me? Aren't you angry at me for walking out on you?' he asked, his voice a husky whisper. His eyes scanned her face for some of the emotions he expected to see there.

'I am not exactly sure what you are talking about,' she gave back, honest once more. The moment Hotch walked out of the hospital room without looking back flashed briefly through Emily's mind.

'Neither am I,' Hotch suddenly admitted and jerked Emily out of her short reverie. His eyes left her face and he flopped down onto her sofa. His head coming to rest on in his hands.

It was Emily's turn to feel out of place now. She didn't know what to say to him. How do you give consolation to someone who appears to be unbreakable? It was one thing to make Reid feel better, or JJ, but with Hotch you never knew where the line was. And there was _always_ a line. With the rest of the team this line was flexible, they were in equal parts colleagues and friends. Hotch however was the boss. He was the distant one. The one to keep the others going.

'You could have died in there,' Hotch spoke up after what seemed like a long time.

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Tired and sad dark eyes looked up at Emily. She didn't know what made her do it, but she sat down next to the man on the couch, leaving yet again a few inches of space between them.

'Yes,' she admitted quietly. 'But you could put just a little more emphasis on the word _could_. I stayed in there deliberately, knowing of the risk and the probable outcome. But I didn't die. I'm still here.'

Her words seemed to take some time to register with him. After a few seconds, he turned towards her, his knee now touching hers, tough neither of them noticed.

'Why do you care about others more than you do about yourself?'

The question hit Emily like a bolt of lightning out of the complete blue. Being asked by the most selfless man she knew why you cared about others more than yourself was strangely funny.

'I could ask you the exact same thing,' she gave back, still somewhat startled.

They both fell silent. Emily could almost see Hotch battling with his demons, with the question of what to say next. But she was too wrapped up with the mess inside her own mind. Suddenly Hotch got up and walked around the table to the door.

'It was foolish to come,' he muttered under his breath. He didn't turn around. 'I'm sorry, Emily, I-'

A warm hand closed around his arm and made him stop. As Hotch turned his head slightly, he could see that Emily had gotten up as well and had stepped up behind him. She spoke up and her hand stayed where it was. The warmth of it seeped through his jacket and shirt, like a warm summer's rain.

'Why did you come here, Hotch?' Emily asked. The trust in her warm, brown eyes was hard to take. Hotch didn't know how he deserved the faith she had in him.

'I don't know.'

He turned around to fully look at the woman in front of him. Not more than one foot separated them, but it felt even less. It felt as if there was nothing there between them at all.

'I think I was looking for forgiveness.'

Emily shook her head. Her hand wandered down to Hotch's hand and gently she wrapped both her hands around it.

'You won't find forgiveness here, Hotch,' Emily began. 'You don't need forgiveness. Because you can't feel guilty for a choice that was never yours in the first place.'

She looked away from him, searching for the right words, while her fingers drew indefinable patterns onto the back of his hand.

'I am sorry for taking that choice from you, but I would do it again, if I had to. It is the only thing I can do to protect you, to keep you in my life.'

He stiffened at her words and Emily would have liked to kick herself for that careless sentence. She didn't want to make him run away.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered and reluctantly looked up.

Hotch untangled his hand from hers and slowly, as if afraid to scare her away, he put one on each side of her face.

'I'm not.'

And he bent down and kissed her; just to feel her warmth, just to make sure she was still there, just to make sure she would not leave. Emily's eyelids fluttered close and her hands came up around his neck, while her body closed the little distance that was left between them on it's own accord.  
Only when breathing became necessary, they parted.

'I will never be sorry for doing that,' Hotch said and he pulled her close again.

'I hope so,' Emily murmured against his mouth.

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The night around them suddenly seemed much brighter. The stars and the moon sent their light through the big windows, illuminating the colleagues and friends that had suddenly become lovers. They stood in the middle of the living room, embracing in a way that was older than anyone could remember. They were giving themselves up to love, that one principle that no one could every fully understand, but everyone craved for all the same.

And those who found it, would hold on to it and keep it save - forever.

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_Do you ever put your arms out and just spin and spin and spin? Well, that's what love is like. Everything inside of you tells you to stop before you fall, but you just keep going.  
__(Practical Magic)_

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	12. Love will never be forgotten

_Disclaimer see Chapter One._

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Chapter Twelve: Love will never be forgotten

_You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep, because reality is finally better than your dreams.  
__(Dr Seuss)_

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They lay in Emily's bed, curled up against each other. It was soothing for both of them to have someone so close by to take strength from. Emily's head rested under Hotch's chin and her hands were on his chest, while his arms were wrapped protectively around her waist.

'I still have now idea why you feel anything at all for me,' Hotch said into the silence of the room.

'I'm afraid I don't have an answer to that question,' Emily gave back and Hotch could feel her breath on his throat. 'I could list all those character traits of yours that I cherish very much, but they are not the reason for my feelings.'

For a moment Hotch was quiet, trying to understand that, trying to cope with the feelings inside of him.

'When- ' He didn't finish. Asking that would sound like a lovesick teenager on a first date. His cheeks felt warm and he was glad that the lights were turned off. He wasn't one for blushing.

'When did I fall in love with or when did I know that I loved you?' Emily finished for him and moved her right hand up to his shoulder.

'Both,' the dark-haired man admitted. He pulled her a little closer.

Emily smiled into his shirt. For the first time in the last days she felt save. But not just protected, but at home; at ease. She knew it was a cliché, but she would trade nothing for what she had right now.

'I don't know when exactly I fell in love with you. I don't believe in love at first sight, so I think the feelings just _grew_. But I knew that I was hopelessly and helplessly falling for you, when you bought me coffee the day Fuller got us.'

'You knew you loved me, because I bought you coffee?' Hotch asked incredulously. 'I didn't think it would be that easy to win you over, Emily Prentiss.'

That earned him a playful slap to the chest.

'I didn't know, _because_ you bought me coffee, but because you knew _what_ coffee to buy. You didn't even have to ask,' she said and caressed the spot where she had just hit him. Hotch moved one hand from her waist to cover her hand that was now resting over his heart. 'So far not even Reid managed to remember how I like my coffee.'

'That's because you don't drink the same type of coffee every day,' Hotch murmured into Emily's silky hair. 'On a really bad day, you drink your coffee with milk, but no sugar. On days when you need a cheer-up, you sometimes drink one of those coffees with a lot of froth and some sirup. And sometimes you just drink cappuccino.'

'Are you profiling me based on my coffee-drinking habits?' Emily asked half jokingly, while entwining her fingers with Hotch's.

'It just caught my attention,' Hotch gave back a little defensively. 'I never managed to figure out how exactly you pick out the coffee you'll have.'

'Then how did you know that I wanted a Latte Macchiato that morning?'

'On good days, you usually drink one of those. And the sun was shining, so I figured it must be a good day.'

'It was a good day,' Emily admitted. 'I was with you.'

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_Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.  
__(Dr Seuss)_

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_~ FIN ~_


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